


Imprisoned

by disgaeaguy3



Category: Kung Fu Panda (Movies)
Genre: Doesn't mean he's Happy, Just things Shen thinks about, Mentions of Death, Mentions of execution, One-Shot, Shen Survived, a bit of introspection, most characters mentioned in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgaeaguy3/pseuds/disgaeaguy3
Summary: Lord Shen survived the loss of his fleet, but there was no one waiting to save him when he drifted to the shore. Instead, he awoke in Gongmen Jail with nothing to do but think...





	Imprisoned

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is one of those I kind of thought about it at two or three in the morning and wanted to write it things. I've always loved Shen since I saw the movie and I felt kind of like writing a bit to toy with his head-space.
> 
> It was kind of fun and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Thank you.

How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?

It was the question he’d been contemplating for what seemed like days, ever since the moment he’d awoken in the dank hole he’d been stuffed in. The chain’s clasped tightly around his neck, wings, and talons clinked in laughter as he shifted his weight the scant inch that their presence permitted and echoed beneath the soft hiss of pain that accompanied the motion. Whoever had dragged him down into the familiar dungeons hadn’t even bothered to set his broken wing or provide a less ruined robe than the pale shadow of his fine silks that only just managed to cling to him. But the pain and disdain for his newfound ‘position’ were dimmed by the rush of his thoughts as he traced the path of his plans as though expecting their conclusion to change.

Where had he made a mistake?

The moment he’d heard the prophecy he’d taken steps to prevent it’s completion. He refused to believe that this was an inevitable conclusion. He’d thought through all the options. Observation, assassination, segregation, banishment, and his assault on the panda village was the only answer that suited him. A warrior of black and white was not specific enough for assassination. Segregation and banishment left poor feelings and the disenfranchised had long and hateful memories. It would have come to haunt him and observation could never be the answer.

Shen had balked at the idea of sitting and awaiting his prophesized defeat.

So he had decided to slaughter them, it had been the only logical conclusion. He’d surgically remove the Panda’s like weeds and eliminate any and all who could possibly be the prophesized ‘Warrior of Black and White’. It was a simple plan, but he hadn't felt it necessary to plan further. They were only Panda's after all. Between his direction and the wolves under his command’s natural talent for tracking, there should have been none who escaped. The panda’s were not warriors. They were not rangers. They were peasants in the truest form of the word. They all should have died.

But they hadn’t and therein had been the first mistake that he had condemned himself for incessantly since the moment he’d awoken in Gongmen jail. He should have been more thorough. He should have sent his wolves to track anyone and everyone who had left that village. Old scents, new trails, anything that they could find should have been explored and followed with the same dogged focus that he’d put into building his weapons. No one should have had even the most remote chance of survival, but he had been foolish. He’d been excited.

He’d wanted to see the pride in his parents' faces when he gave them evidence of his capability and decisive action.

His beak twisted into an ugly sneer at the reminder, the look on his beloved parents faces etched into the back of his mind like the exotic carvings on his canons. No pride. Only hate, disgust, and horror had greeted him on his return. That had given way quickly to anger, disappointment and ended in the damning punishment they visited upon him. Banishment. Honestly, execution would have been a kinder fate.

And the soothsayer believed they had loved him… 

“Pah… Senile old goat…”

He muttered in a scratchy voice as his weight shifted again in his chains. They hadn’t loved him and no amount of reassurance and kindly words from his nana were ever going to erase the stain that knowledge left upon him. They hadn’t come to his side when he spent months bedridden at the ripe age of four. They hadn’t arrived when the only thing he’d asked for on his sixth birthday had been to share an evening with them. They hadn’t come to him when the guard children sang their cruel words and the foul epithet that clung to him for years.

“He’s a Bad Omen.”

The words scratched out in the dank air of the dungeon as crimson eyes burned with hellfire. Oh how he hated those words. They clung to him like a stain on his fine white silks that he could never quite see washed out. If he had been capable he would have banished the words from the language itself, but that had always been a naive idea. He knew that he was odd. He knew it when his parents had finally come to see him at the age of seven speaking of ‘expectation and appearance’. He’d known it when his peers would exclude him and laugh at his attempts to be 'social' at his nana's behest. He’d known it when he was made to attend the parties and functions in the Tower of Sacred Flame where the peahens with their fans and fine garments would whisper behind his back.

_‘So small.’_

_‘So weak.’_

_‘Horrifying.’_

_‘Pale as death.’_

_'A Bad Omen...'_

He was an outcast among the nobles, a blight upon the city among the peasants, and an inconvenience to his dear parents. Was it any wonder he’d found friends in the wolves? Their unique psychology and predatory roots left them on the fringes of society. Never quite trusted, always the first suspects, and little more than bandits. Outcasts. No it was no surprise that he'd found friendship in the wolves. His ONLY friends had been among the wolves.

And now they were dead by his hand.

The peacock gave another snarl and jerked against the chains in irritation, tugging at his wounds and sending a searing wave of fresh agony up his spine. Everything had been going to plan! They were moving out! The panda had faced the full brunt of his weapon! The Five were at his mercy! There should have been nothing left in his way! Thirty years of planning all coming to fruition in that final moment only to be damned by the impossible.

The panda had been alive! 

He should have sent men to find the body and drag it before him so he could ensure his end, but there had been no reason! They’d all seen what his creation had done to Master Thundering Rhino. The panda shouldn’t have survived! But he did. Through some unpleasant bout of luck or the blessings of fate, he did and Shen had been forced to adjust his plans. A simple adjustment in the grand scheme of things, but an adjustment nonetheless. No prophetic invulnerability should have been able to survive his weapons a second time and his order had been swift. But the wolves loyalty meant nothing if they couldn’t aim. Shen had always been aware of his weapons weakness. He was not naive to the vulnerabilities of his creation, but if the damn wolves had just ‘fired at the building’ then the panda never would have boarded the ships. Bring the building down with the panda on top of it and keep firing.

Problem solved.

But they hadn’t, the panda had boarded, and then his army had given up on the weapons entirely. Who would fire at their own? Who would make the decision to sacrifice their fellows? None of them had the spine, not even Zheng... The peacock's crimson eyes narrowed further and he finally stopped raging against the indignity of his chains as the memory of her follower’s face just before his death flashed through his mind. Damn the wolf for his betrayal. Damn him for not just lighting the cannon.

Damn him for making his death necessary.

Such a refusal couldn’t be immune to reprisal, he’d known that. It wasn’t just that he had abandoned his loyalty to Shen, no. The wolf had been the alpha. His refusal would translate to his pack abandoning the cause. They would leave the weapons, the boats, the plan, and for what? Because he couldn’t make the necessary sacrifice? Because he couldn’t follow orders? Because THAT was the line he wasn’t willing to cross?! 

Shen had no such limitations and had struck down the alpha. He’d fired that cannon. He’d killed his wolves and still the panda lived. 

“How.. How. How HOW!?”

He snarled, talons lashing at the ground and wounds stinging as her raged against the injustice of the world. Thirty years of planning! Countless nights spent working and toiling to perfect his design. Years of slights and struggles all culminating in what was meant to be his grand return. All of it amounting to dirt because of the Panda and his Kung Fu that defied all logic and everything that Shen knew of the art! How? How could things have gone so wrong?

Because the panda was at peace?

No. Nothing short of divine intervention could grant the panda that much accursed fortune. To survive the massacre. To survive Shen’s wolves. To survive Shen’s weapon not once, but three. Damnedable. Times. Honestly, how could he possibly accept defeat at the hands of that level of fortune?! How could the panda possibly lecture him on holding on to the past and how scars heal, fade, or whatever other fool thoughts the fat creature had to offer when he had the blessing of some detestable god of prophecy on his side?! 

Shen took a slow deep breath and allowed his eyes to drift shut as he recalled the moment he’d seen the cannon begin to fall. The moment he knew that he’d truly lost. The prophecy was done. He’d been defeated through cosmic intervention or perhaps his own hubris as he knew he should have slit the panda’s throat the moment he’d been kneeling before him and been done with the matter. But defeat, while achingly bitter, did not equate to death. The cannon was heavy and the ships structure had already been compromised when the warrior had thrown his cannonball back into the vessel. 

The shift of weight had cracked the wood and split the split down the middle and the peacock had felt the sudden shock of cold river water before the weight of his destroyed weapon. Everything from there was still a bit fuzzy, but he remembered pain… and struggle… Something had snapped in him. His silken robes had caught on wreckage and ripped on metal as water flooded his lungs. Then there’d been air, the muddy shoreline, cries of alarm, and hands bearing chains before he’d passed out.

And then he’d awoken here, chained in the familiar dungeon’s of Gongmen Jail awaiting the council’s decision on his punishment. 

There was little doubt he would be faced with execution for his actions. The peasants were angry, the Kung Fu Master’s wanted revenge for Flying Rhino, and the Tower of the Sacred Flame lay in ruins. He doubted anyone would speak against the need to see him dead, so it was likely only the method that required discussion. A morbid part of the bird wondered how they would ‘address’ his end. A beheading perhaps? A public spectacle of strength in the wake of his defeat. Starvation. Torture. There were many options but beheading seemed rather likely.

Public, quick, and easier on those without the stomach for the more brutal ends like those heroic types.

It still wasn’t a comforting thought for the peacock of course. There was simply nothing else to think about locked up and chained as he was. There were no guards, no fellow prisoners, no one and nothing but the dull drip of a leak and the soft clinking of his chains to take away from the prison of his mind. Yes Shen was certain he was going to die. Still, there was a certain morbid humor to be found in the idea of Master Croc, Ox and the blasted panda debating over which manner of his demise would be more appropriate for the weak-willed peasantry’s enjoyment. 

Perhaps the panda would do it himself in revenge?

“No… I would think not…”

He muttered in the darkness, speaking to no one as he tossed the idea aside and continued to review the paths his life had taken and contemplating the methods of its end. He could only hope it was something public if nothing else. Death frightened him, but he had to admit that the idea of being slaughtered in some dank cell with no one to note his passing terrified him. No one to watch. No one to notice. No one to care.

An inglorious end to spit on thirty years and all his plans…

Yes… now that was certainly a horrifying thought…


End file.
